I call my apartment complex the halfway house due to the fact that no one lives here more than eight months (yours truly, excluded) and most of the tenants are of questionable temperaments.

There is a grassy knoll (or the dogs' piss patch) out front. It is difficult to miss the mounds of uprooted earth - little moles (Celeste was dropped to #110 favorite dog the day she killed a baby mole). The moles have been here for years. They have disrupted the surface of the earth for years. And yet.

For the past three hours, my neighbors have systematically approached one little mound, because one one of these adorably ugly creatures stupidly decided to make an appearance in front of my neighbors. Immediately, the phone tree was consulted and friends, families have been called to learn about this odd animal taking up residence in the front lawn.

Even more obnoxious is their attempts to convince the little guy to come out and play. They have cooed to him and called out terms of endearment normally saved for your infant or dog or sometimes your significant other. They have stomped on the earth around the mound and waved their hands wildly in the air, a halfway-house resident's incantation.

I mean, seriously, who are these people that a subterranean mammal could inspire such odd antics? I *love* moles and have eeped childishly and with delight when catching a glimpse of their ginormous clawed feet and tiny noses. But I do not think staring long and hard at that little mound of dirt while stamping the ground calling CUTIE PIE CUTIE PIE will cause a mass mole emergence from the earth. Especially when my neighbors can see me through their windows and hear me through their paper thin walls and passer-bys can also see and hear me plainly.

I'm just waiting for a caution tape to be erected and a kid selling lemonade charging .50 to see the mole mound.